USA STORY | Stories & Novels

 No one had called that number in ten years. The phone sat in the bottom drawer of an old wooden desk, buried under yellowed papers, broken pens, and memories no one wanted to touch. It was an old landline phone—gray, heavy, stubbornly alive. Mark kept paying for the line even after moving to a smartphone, even after the world moved on. He told himself it was habit. The truth was simpler: guilt. Ten years ago, the phone rang at 2:17 a.m. Mark saw the name on the caller ID. Daniel. His younger brother. They had argued earlier that night. Nothing dramatic—just the usual bitterness. Their father’s hospital bills. Old resentments. Words thrown like knives because they both knew where it hurt most. Mark watched the phone ring. And ring. And stop. Daniel died in a car accident twenty minutes later. Since then, the phone never rang again. Until tonight. Mark was half-asleep on the couch when he heard it. The ring was sharp, metallic—wrong. Like a sound from another time. ...